The Bloody Eighth
by Karaya 2
Summary: Their mission was to deter aggression in the region, instead they invited it. On the first day of the conflict the First Battalion Eighth Cavalry was wiped out in a heavy artillery barrage. Instead of being killed they wake up in Atlas during a pivotal point in future of the Atlesian military. Now they have a new mission, to train the next generation of Atlesian Soldiers.
1. Chapter One: Movement to Contact

**Authors Note: I've been meaning to wire an armor centered story for a while now but just never got around to it. But now seeing as how I'm stuck in Germany for another few months and Combined Resolve 13 behind me I've got nothing but time. This story is the product of months of concept work and re-writes so I hope it turned into something people would enjoy. **

**Beta-read by SilverExcel115**

* * *

**_Associated Press Article, October 25, 2019_**

_"Tensions in the Persian Gulf rose after two oil tankers were sunk yesterday by Iranian fighters. One ship under British Registry was outbound from Bahrain when it was attacked in the early hours of yesterday morning. The second ship, registered in Japan, was sunk when attacked at the mouth of the Persian Gulf. There is no word on the number killed as of yet."_

**_Television News Story, October 30, 2019_**

_"Despite condemnation from the United Nations, U.K, European Union, Japan, and the United States, Iran had declared that it will sink any vessel entering the Persian Gulf declaring the area an active warzone. The United States had redeployed naval assets in the region in an attempt to deter Iranian aggression."_

**_Television News Story, November 12, 2019_**

_"While on patrol in the Persian gulf the Destroyer USS Gridley was rammed by a Russian destroyer of the Kashin class yesterday. The two ships exchanged fire before breaking off. Damage to either side is unknown at this time."_

**_NATO Press Release, November 14, 2019_**

_NATO nations are happy to host the Second Armored Brigade Combat Team (2ABCT) First Cavalry Division to Europe as they continue to support Operation Atlantic Resolve. The deployment of the Blackjack Brigade comes at a critical time as tensions rise between Russia and NATO._

**_Armed Forces News, November 24, 2019_**

_First Battalion Eighth Cavalry gear up for Combined Resolve 13. The Battalion welcomes not only brigade assets into its rank but a multinational force ready to take on a world-class OPFOR._

**_Associated Press Article, December 16, 2019_**

_Russia and Ukraine exchange mortar fire in the Donbas region as the Russian military commits and armored battle group to the region marking yet another escalation worsening situation in Europe._

**_Associated Press Article, February 5, 2020_**

_"In response to American and NATO military presence on the Russian border, the Kremlin had deployed its military in an attempt to 'Stem western aggression'. NATO officials responded with the mobilization and deployment of military forces in the Baltic states. A statement from NATO headquarters in Brussels confirmed the mobilization marking the first time since the Cold War that the two sides deployed in such force."_

**_The Bloody _****_Eighth_**

**_Chapter One: Movement To Contact_**

_"Movement to contact is a type of offensive operation designed to develop the situation and establish or regain contact. A commander conducts this type of offensive operation when the tactical situation is not clear or when the enemy has broken contact. A properly executed movement to contact develops the combat situation and maintains the commander's freedom of action after contact is gained."_

_**Camp Albertshof Hohensfel, Joint Multinational Readiness Center, 30th November 2019**_

Specialist Elijah Shaw threw the covers of his bed over his head as the fluorescent lights of the bay he was living in flickered on. He heard his bunkmate groan and curse as sounds of metal hitting metal was heard. It had to be a joke, someone from another company trying to escalate the prank war that had been brewing between the companies since the task force landed in Germany. Then the yelling started.

"Up, everyone up! Grab your bags and get down to the motor pool now!"

Shaw sat up in his bed and rubbed his eyes before taking a swig from water from the canteen that sat on the shelf next to him. He recognized the voice as Bravo Company's first sergeant, First Sergeant Joseph Cambell.

"What's going on First S'arnt?" Shaw's bunkmate and fellow A2 gunner Sergeant Connor Maddoc asked as he swung his feet out of his bunk and onto the cold concrete floor.

"The Russian 28th Guards Division broke through NATO lines in the Baltics, 2 CR is holding them back as of the moment but won't last long. EUCOM is deploying Task Force Mustang as corps reserves. Now get your ass out of bed and down to the MP!"

Shaw only needed a moment to process the news before he jumped from the top bunk and threw open his locker. He threw on a layer of cold-weather base layers before pulling on his IWOL trousers and his olive drab Nomex *****CVC jacket. He fumbled with the straps of his tanker boots but quickly got them strapped down. He didn't bother grabbing his patrol cap opting instead to wear his black watch cap. He threw on his ruck and tossed his duffle bag over his shoulder. Around him, the men in his platoon Third Platoon, and the Second Platoon who they shared a bay with were doing the same. Throwing on the newly issued *****FREE gear while others who had been in longer opted to throw on a mix-match set of FREE gear and the older but tried and true CVC uniforms. Shaw looked over at his peer.

"Ready?"

Maddoc cinched down the straps on his ruck and nodded. "Ready as I'll ever be."

The two moved towards the exit of the bay and pushed open the metal door, immediately they were greeted by the chilling air of Bavaria. Shaw shivered and pulled his gator neck up over his nose, already in the east, the sky began to brighten as the sun started to rise.

"Lovely day to start a war," Shaw muttered as the two made their way onto the road leading to the motor pool.

War, it was never too far from the minds of the soldiers of the task force. Shaw wasn't sure when he first noticed it, back then he was more focused on the status of his tank and a potential transfer to a Stryker unit in JBLM. It had started with constant gear layouts, the checking, and maintenance of personal equipment. The cleanliness of both crew serve and personal weapons was commonplace in the military and thus brought no worry to mind. Then came the issuing of extra filters for his protective mask and getting issued what his Platoon Sergeant called a "Go to war *JSLIST" an environmental protective suit meant to keep chemical agents from the skin. Though chemical agents have long since been banned by many international treaties, that didn't stop the Russian military from keeping a healthy stock of chemical munitions giving them a unique tactical advantage. The kicker came after the mobilization of other battalion-sized task forces within the Second Armored Brigade Combat Team along with local EUCOM and NATO forces. Pallets of ammunition ranging from nine millimeter and 5.56 for small arms to 120mm and 155mm tank and artillery munitions were staged in the motor pool. It became painfully clear that the United States and her Allies were on the path to war.

Shaw and Maddoc approached the motor pool that housed the Task Forces vehicles, dozens of floodlights illuminated the countless tanks and fighting vehicles casting ghostly shadows indicating they were not the first ones there. The two made a beeline for their platoon line before them sat their vehicles. Four M1A2 main battle tanks painted in a desert tan. One of these tanks would be deadly when implemented right, a platoon of these beasts was simply put, devastating. Shaw threw his go to war bags on the front slope of his tank Bravo 31 nicknamed _Boogaloo _before putting his foot on the mounting stirrup and climbing onto the tank. By now the other members of his crew began to show up.

"Klein get in and start her up, Yano help with the bags." Shaw ordered from the top of the turret.

Private Richard Klein, the driver of 31, climbed up to the turret and fumbled with the hatch lock for a moment before opening it and lowering himself down into the turret. As this happened Specialist Eugene Yanovich began tossing rucks and duffel bags up to his gunner who then stowed them in the tanks bustle rack.

"You think this is a drill man?" Yanovich asked as he tossed another ruck.

Shaw caught it before shaking his head in reply. "Not this time boss."

"Good thing we stocked up huh?" Yanovich replied with a sheepish smile, no matter the situation Yanovich always found a way to make light of the predicament.

The gunner gave a half-hearted laugh. "Hell yeah."

As the last duffle bag was thrown the crew heard the horn of the company's cargo truck, an M1078 *LMTV. The LMTV stopped short of the platoon tank line and the supply NCO jumped out and began to yell.

"Hey! Weapons, come get your weapons!"

Shaw looked down at his loader. "Go grab them."

"On it."

Yanovich pivoted on his heels and jogged towards the LMTV just barely missing 31s tank commander and platoon leader Second Lieutenant Damian Rossa. Rossa like many other officers had come into the army by way of the ROTC program before attending *ABOLC at the Army Maneuver Center in Fort Benning Georgia. Of the few things that made him stand out from most of the other armor platoon leaders were the Air Assault and Airborne tabs above the Army tag on his uniform and Ranger Tab on his shoulder. Something he only shared with one other armored platoon leader, the platoon leader of Second Platoon Second Lieutenant Hayden Avery. Like the rest of the crew, Rossa tossed his bags up to Shaw before mounting the tank.

"You do your *AACs yet?"

Shaw shook his head. "No Sir, I was preparing the tank to roll."

"Get on it."

Shaw nodded before he lowered himself down through the loaders hatch and into the turret. He hit the turret power button before sliding past the breech and settling into the gunners' hole. As soon as the *iGCDP came to life he began flipping through menus and ran a series of computerized tests. When all the tests came back as "GO" he climbed out of the turret.

"We're set, Sir."

Rossa acknowledged with a grunt as he set a Caliber fifty receiver into the *CROWS mount, he slid the locking pins into place before screwing on the solenoid.

"Help me with the barrel."

Shaw pushed himself out of the turret and grabbed the barrel off the sponson box, he slid the barrel into the receiver and locked it into place.

"Any idea what's going on Sir?"

"Just rumors, Captain Dittrich is in a meeting with the BC and battalion *S-2 and S-3. Figure we'll know more when he briefs us."

"Great, so all we know is Ivan fucked up the boys in Poland and are bee-lining it to Berlin. I ain't even had my morning cigarette yet."

"Well look on the bright side," Rossa smirked as he looked up from the fifty. "You're finally getting that war you wanted."

Shaw chuckled as a light snow began to fall. "Ivan chose a hell of a day to start a war."

"Ell-tee!" Rossa turned around and saw Maddoc standing by the right fender of the tank. "CO is looking for you."

"Right, I'm on my way. Shaw finished getting the tank squared away."

"Can do."

Rossa hopped down from the turret and onto the front slope before pushing himself off the fender and onto the frozen ground. He shoved his hands in his pocket as he walked down the tank line towards headquarters platoon's section of the line. Once there, he found the company commander, Captain William Dittrich, standing with the other platoon leaders and the FSO.

Dittrich acknowledged his presence with a nod before opening his notebook. "So here's the skinny of it. Earlier this morning the Russians attacked NATO positions along the Baltic front. According to S-2, their artillery was a hell of a lot more accurate and than we thought, they broke the back of Task Force Headhunters and have taken the Suwalki gap and is now pouring into Latvia and Poland. 1-9 is trying to close the gap with the help of the Polish army but as of now has shown no gains in achieving that objective." The captain paused to make sure his subordinates were listening, once he was sure he continued with his brief. "Second Cavalry Regiment deployed as forward reserves and stopped Ivan right outside of Warsaw. This is where we come in, NATO command has mobilized Task Force Mustang to hit the right flank of the fuckers, breakthrough their security screen and envelop them. To achieve this the Battalion Commander has broken the task force down into several combined arms teams, Bravo Company is going to be augmented by a platoon from Lion company and a scout troop from 4-9s own Apache troop. Galarza your platoon will be attached to the Bulgarians"

"Sir," Lieutenant Avery stepped in. "We're getting a platoon from the Bulgarian Infantry?"

Dittrich nodded. "Yes, they were with us at CBR but since they're here NATO command decided to make use of them. Lieutenant Strashilov's platoon will be augmented to Bravo Company. Now S-2 also reported that the Russians have used chemical weapons, battalion command wants us at MOPP level two when we roll out."

There were collective groans from the platoon leaders followed by the PL from first platoon, First Lieutenant George Galarza, chiming in. "You got any more bombshells to drop on us, Sir?"

Dittrich looked down at his notes. "Battalion order of march is the Dutch Recce company, Bravo Company, followed by Charlie, Headquarters, FSC, Delta 8th BEB, Alpha 3-16, then our own Alpha company taking up the rear."

"Who will be leading the march, Sir." Rossa asked jotting down the order of march in his notebook.

"Naturally we'll have the scouts out front, then Lieutenant Rossa, your platoon will be the spearhead if we make contact."

**XXXXX**

By midmorning, the Task Force was nearing the border of Poland, the light snow that had followed them since Hoensfel had turned into a full-on blizzard causing near whiteout conditions. In the cupula of 31s commanders station, Rossa continuously wiped clumps of snow from his goggles as the rolled down the highway. As much as the snowstorm annoyed the junior platoon leader he was grateful for it. In a way it had turned out to be a blessing, the overcast skies and heavy snow had kept any lurking Russian strike aircraft from harassing the task force and hampering its movement to the front. Rossa had dropped down into the turret to check the company's movement on the JCR when music began to play over the tanks' intercom system. He looked across the turret at his loader, Yanovich had managed to jerry-rig a pair of spliced earbuds to the MCS and play music over it. A trick both Yanovich and Shaw had learned when they first hit the unit.

"Hey you finally got it, look you long enough." Rossa heard Shaw's voice come over the CVC helmet.

"Look you try and get the wires to connect when the tank is fucking moving." Yanovich shot back.

Shaw shrugged. "Sounds like your just a bitch."

"Swear to God if we weren't about to go fight Ivan I would have smacked you with the breech operating handle the moment we left Albertshof."

Shaw shifted in his seat and looked over at his loader. "Do it pussy!"

The moment the words left his mouth he felt something bounce off the hard shell of his CVC and fall to the turret floor. He leaned over a picked up the stray bolt that Yanovich had thrown at him and tossed it back his way.

"Cunt."

"Shaw stopped fucking around and pick up a scan," Rossa said kicking his gunner in the shoulder.

Shaw shrugged before grasping the cadillacs and methodically traversed the turret from the two o'clock to five o'clock position. "I don't see why Sir, we're still a hot minute away from Warsaw and I doubt Ivan broke through 2CR already."

"It's war Shaw, you never know what's going to happen," Rossa replied as he adjusted the contrast on the *CITV.

A tense silence had taken over the tank, the reality of being at war was still taking root in their minds. At any moment the sky could clear up and they could be blown away by enemy bombers, or a Russian VDV unit that had dropped well behind their lines could make easy work of the unsuspecting tank platoon. It was just as the platoon leader had said, no one knew what could happen next, and that reality was hammered home when a transmission from the lead tank, Bravo 32 came over the platoon net.

_"Blue One, Blue Two, observing artillery in the vicinity of Alpha Charlie Two Three Seven Seven break, Nine Two Five One. Over."_

"Roger Two I see it." Rossa replied before switching the J-Box to the company net to relay the info up higher.

While this happened shaw traversed the gun hard right to bring the impacting artillery rounds into view.

"If they can hit us here does that mean they already broke through 2CR?"

"Don't know Klein," Yano replied as he pulled the charging handle on his 240.

"Yano button up we're pushing on!" Rossa ordered as he settled into the *TC station closing his hatch behind him.

"You're fucking kidding me!" Shaw cried as he looked over his shoulder. "Look Sir I may not be an officer but I pretty sure SOP for reacting to indirect is not to fucking run towards it!"

"Better than sitting here and waiting for Ivan to get a bead on us! Yano battle carry Sabot, Russians like to support their fires with maneuver I expect enemy armor on the other side of this barrage."

Yanovich flashed a thumbs up before depressing the knee switch, Shaw heard the hydraulics begin to whine as the heavy steel blast door that separated the ammo from the crew slid open. The loader unclipped a Sabot round from the honeycomb and slid it out at the same time letting his knee off the pressure switch. Yanovich flipped the round over onto the breech and rammed it home, the steel breech block slammed closed with a satisfying clank just as the ammo door closed behind him.

Shaw continued to observe the impact of artillery shells as the barrage grew in intensity and began to get closer to the column. Somewhere a Russian forward observer had found his mark and was walking the guns on target. All Shaw could do now was pray that his tank was as resilient as he'd been told as Lieutenant Rossa continued to call up shell reports. The last thing he remembered seeing before blacking out was a bright flash in his thermal scope, a direct hit.

**XXXXX**

General James Ironwood tapped his fingers against his desk in irritation. A few months ago the Atlesian council had voted on new defense initiatives and in turn Ironwood had challenged the best of Atlas's engineers to meet the demand for new weapons systems. However, instead of new and innovative designs, the General got the same old designs that Atlas had been relying on for years. Drones, androids, mechanized soldiers, designs and concepts that had helped Atlas win countless battles against the creatures of Grimm but untested on the modern battlefield. What little combat experience the Atlesian Knights did have proved them incapable of fighting a thinking enemy, one that could take the initiative on the battlefield. This was highlighted by the many hijacked transports guarded by the drones. What Ironwood needed was a way to keep a human soldier on the battlefield while keeping them safe from enemy fire. That concept was simple but getting the council, who had always held fast in their belief of removing the human soldier from the battlefield, to sign off on the idea.

Ironwood took a sip from a cold cup of coffee and grimaced at the taste, he stared at the coffee and wondered how long had he been sitting there. As the General stood up from his seat he heard a knock on the door.

Ironwood cleared his throat before he spoke. "Come in."

The metal door slid open and a young woman with pale blue eyes and snow-white hair wearing an Atlas military uniform entered his office.

"Major Schnee, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

The door slid closed with the soft hiss of hydraulics as Winter Schnee made her way further into the office.

Winter sighed before addressing the General. "Still fretting over the defense initiative I see. If you would just talk to my Father I'm sure you would make better headway."

Ironwood scoffed. "And have Jaques hold it over my head for as long as I live, you Father is a good friend Winter but I've already asked a lot of him."

Winter leaned against some filing cabinets and crossed her arms. "If anything he would be grateful, he's been looking for an excuse to break into the defense industry."

"A real businessman." Ironwood replied as he dumped his cold coffee into the trash before pouring himself a fresh cup and another for Winter. "But the problem isn't finding a manufacturer, Granite Engineering would be eager to jump on anything the Atlesian military hands down to them. The problem stems from Atlas not fighting a modern conflict in generations, we have nothing to draw from, no doctrine to help us design such machines, no experience. And it's frustrating as hell!" The General said handing Winter her cup.

Winter took a sip before replying. "We just have to start from scratch."

Ironwood shook his head. "To write new doctrine, set up the proper training facilities, the research and development would take years. It all takes time, time that we may not have."

Winter raised a brow. "Expecting a war any time soon General?"

Ironwood sat on the edge of his desk and drank his coffee. "That's the thing about wars Major, you never know when one will break out most time they happen when you least expect it." He took another sip from his cup. "Or at least that's what I got from my first and only war."

"You're talking about the Fanus war."

"I was only a young lieutenant back then, fresh out of Atlas academy," Ironwood replied as he stared into his drink. "Such a pointless war."

Winter was about to reply when the General's scroll notification alert went off. Ironwood pulled the device from his uniform pocket and pulled it open. She watched the General as he talked with some unknown voice, probably an aide or subordinate, on the other end of the line.

"This is Ironwood wood… Are you sure?... Wait how large did you say this formation was?... Battalion! How did they get here, nevermind I'm on my way to the command center." Ironwood collapsed his scroll and looked over at Winter. "Something's come up."

**XXXXX**

The metallic voice sounded as if was echoing through a long dark hall as Shaw drifted from a state of unconscious to consciousness. A voice in the back of his head told him to ignore it, that it wasn't important. That was until the voice came louder clearer now followed by a swift kick of a boot to his shoulder. Shaw jerked awake with a yelp smacking his CVC helmet into the GPS in the process.

"Son of a bitch!"

Shaw felt a hand rest on his shoulder. "You good Shaw?"

The gunner turned around to face his TC, the movement caused him to feel nauseous and he quickly abandoned the action opting instead to rest his head on the CDU.

"Well Sir my shoulder hurts and I feel like I'm about to vomit."

He heard his TC chuckle. "Yano help him onto blowout panels."

"I said my shoulder hurt not that I'm crippled." Shaw snapped as he pushed past the breach of the cannon, black spots filled his vision as he climbed out of the loaders hatch. "I could use some water though."

Yanovich uncapped his canteen and handed it off to Shaw. The gunner nodded in appreciation before gulping down the water. He then proceeded to pull a pack of Camel Menthols out of his shoulder pocket. Plucking a cigarette from the pack and putting between his lips as he clacked open his zippo. As Shaw took a drag of his cigarette he studied the surrounding terrain. It was, to say the least, a far cry from Bavaria and central Europe. Thick overgrown forest and the mighty autobahn that cut through them were replaced by a cold, rolling tundra that stretched on for miles. The only noticeable terrain feature was a large stretch of hills in the distance.

"Where the hell are we?"

"No idea, *JCR is down and the DAGR isn't picking up any satellites," Rossa replied as he tapped on the CDUs touch screen trying to send a message over the JCR. "There's been very little radio chatter, last we heard from Battle Six was that the task force was holding in place."

Shaw looked around once more this time noticing the tanks of Third platoon were arrayed in a herringbone formation on either side of the road.

"We lose anyone when we took indirect?"

Yano shook his head. "Nope, not a scratch on anyone in the company."

"Bullshit, we took a direct hit. Where the hell is Klein, is he still breathing?"

"Yo, good down here boss," Klein called from the front slope of the tank.

Rossa climbed out of the TC cupola. "I know we should be dead but by either sheer luck or the grace of God, we're alive. What concerns me is how the hell we got spirited away to wherever the hell we are now."

Shaw took a drag of his cigarette. "Some scifi bullshit this is turning out to be." He said as he watched an M3 Bradley belonging to the task force screening element roll down the road. The Bradley came to a stop by his tank, on the side of a turret was the painting of an Indian riding on horseback, the emblem of the Ninth Cavalry Regiment. A troop of scouts from the brigade's reconnaissance squadron had been attached to the battalion in order to task orient the unit for their deterrence mission in Germany. The TC of the Bradley stood up in the turret and yelled over the roar of the tracks diesel engine.

"Y'all know where the Task Force TOC is at?"

Rossa shrugged. "Not sure if there even is a TOC, HHC should be further down this road."

"Fuck, 'ppreciate Sir. Our JCR is down we've got no way to track the unit's frontline trace."

"Welcome to the club," Rossa replied. "How far forward are you located?"

"Few miles down the road." The scout replied pointing back the way he came. "Head that way and you'll see us laid out in a screen, the Dutch are tied in with us so try not to shoot them."

"Can do, good luck."

The scout waved in reply before the engine of the Bradley roared to life as the vehicle took off down the road.

"Well at least we ain't the only ones with a commo problem." Klein said as he chewed on a first strike bar.

Rossa tapped on his map board with a red marker and grimaced. "It's not a communication issue, problem is our maps are useless and even if JCR was up the hard drive isn't imaged for wherever the hell we are. There is no way to keep a frontline trace or battle track." Rossa tossed his map board in front of him and watched it land between the CROWS and his hatch.

Shaw flicked away the remains of his cigarette. "Well the *BC better figure out something soon, we can't just sit in a herringbone indefinitely."

"Can't just wander off into the tundra." Yanovich quipped as he took a drag of his cigarette.

"Better than waiting for the Russians to bomb the formation."

Yanovich sighed. "And how do you know we're still on earth man, we don't know if there is anything out there. We roll around aimlessly till we run out of fuel and we're dead!"

"I'd rather die out there trying to find any sort of civilization than wait here and freeze to death! Shit, maybe we'll run out of food first!"

"Both of you quiet," The lieutenant interrupted the squabble and turned his ear to the wind. "You hear that?"

The two crewmen stopped arguing to listen, it took a moment but Shaw heard it clear.

"Sounds like wolves," Shaw stated. "Not far off."

Klein stood up on the front slope. "Those aren't wolves man, it sounds...off. I can't put my finger on it but I just know."

Yano raised a brow. "Guess growing up in Montana has its perks."

Shaw opened the TC sponson and pulled out an M4 and magazine. In the eight months Klein had been on his tank he learned not to question his driver's instincts. More than once the driver had saved the crew from injury just because he "just knew". Hell, not even two weeks ago Klein saved them from rolling the tank off a cliff in Hohensfel. Shaw scanned the horizon with the M4, an eerie silence had taken over the crew. The only sound came from Bravo 34, the platoon sergeants track, as it traversed scanning for targets. Shaw assumed Rossa had told their platoon sergeant, Staff Sergeant Anthony Farero, about Klein's gut feeling.

Shaw jumped as the radio crackled to life and a metallic voice came over the net. _"Guide on, guide on, guide on. Be advised break… Bravo company is going to occupy the southern edge of the hills and set in a defense break… once we're set in the defense engineers are going to dig battle positions, while we wait for that I want an update on Class one and three sent up to Battle Five. Respond in sequence over."_

One by one each platoon leader replied.

_"Red one roger."_

_"White one roger."_

Rossa keyed the mic on his CVC. _"Blue one roger."_

Once more Captain Dittrich's voice came over the net. _"And Roger, Blue one your platoon is the lead element. Lead us on, out."_

"Of course," Yano muttered.

Shaw climbed down into the turret and sat in the gunner station. "Why are we never in the middle or the rear? It's always Blue platoon lead on."

"'Cause we're dependable."

Shaw chuckled. "Bastards."

**XXXXX**

**Several hours since barrage**

It was, simply put a nightmare, not that any part of the situation was particularly terrifying. However for Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Bradshaw it was the logistics of the taskforce that was a nightmare. Taskforce Mustangs was built around the First Battalion Eighth Cavalry Regiment with additional brigade assets such as a scout troop for 4-9 Cav, an Engineer company and an Artillery battery. Those themselves weren't too hard to resupply when the Brigade formed the task force the put in place the proper personnel and equipment to keep them rolling. Then came Bradshaw's problem children, a company of mechanized infantry from the Bulgarian Sixty-First Mechanized Brigade known as Lion company. Their small arms and light vehicles he could keep resupplied but without the support of Brigade and NATO allies keeping their BMP-23s in the fight would prove a challenge. Accompanying them was a Dutch recce troop from the Forty-Third Brigade Reconnaissance Squadron. Their CV90-35NLs could run off JP8 but the problem came when ammunition was involved, the task force didn't have a large supply of 30mm used by Dutch CV90s. Nor was their fuel supply limitless.

Finally came his biggest headache, tailing the task force was the Polish First Motorized Battalion Seventeenth Mechanized. When they came under fire back in Germany elements of the 1-17 were caught in the barrage. When the Colonel came too he found a company of Polish Leopard twos not far behind his formation. While the Polish were considered part of the task force back in Hohensfel, in combat the 1-17th was meant to be self-sufficient and operate in support of 1-8 not as part of it. Now without support from their parent organization, the resupply and maintenance of the leopard company fell on the task force. A task that put major strains on their ammunition and fuel supply. In short, without the support structure of the Brigade or NATO, the task force would soon collapse on itself.

Colonel Bradshaw leaned back against the seat in one of the Task Force's M577. The heater roared gently in the vehicle as he thought about what to do next, and for once in his twenty-three year-long career, he had no idea what to do next. He set up Battalion *TOC in an abandoned mining village between two hills, he set one of his companies, Team Bravo to defend the forward slope of a hill to the south. A bit further east Charlie Company, the battalion's infantry company took up positions in one of the old mining sites. He figured they would have better protection there than fighting in the open. Alpha Company secured Charlie's flank setting on the forward slope of a hill further east their line gently starting to slope north. There they tied in with Lion company supported by a platoon of Abrams from Bravo. Finally the line slipped west where the Polish and their Leopards defended the mouth of the valley and tied in with Team Bravo's line. Around the perimeter, 4-9 scouts and Dutch recon screened the task force from hidden battle positions.

With assorted sector sketches handed in by company commanders, the Battalion S-3 was able to create a crude map of the area. A patch of land where they would hold out until Bradshaw came up with an idea to get them out of this mess or pray for a miracle. The Battalion S-2 came first.

Captain Oliver Franco entered the back of the command vehicle, Franco a man in his early thirties removed his *ACH. As the head of the Battalion's military intelligence, Franco was responsible for tracking enemy movements and figuring out what they might do next. But as of now his job was to dig up some information on where they were.

"So Franco what do you got for me?"

Franco took a seat across from the BC and brushed the snow from his shoulder. "Does Schnee Dust Company ring a bell?"

Bradshaw shook his head. "Should it?"

"No, no one has ever heard of this company." Franco took a breath. "However what we found in the town indicates that the town and mining site both belonged to this company. Apparently they were digging for something called dust, not quite sure what it is yet but we're still picking through the town."

"Any idea why the inhabitants up and left?"

Franco packed a can of dip and put a pinch in his mouth. "There's a lack of personal belongings in the houses, my guess mines dried up and with that people left looking for work."

"Well bright side of it all means that there is someone out there." The Colonel sat up in his seat. "Any sign of Russian or NATO forces?"

The S-2 shook his head.

Bradshaw cursed under his breath. "Right, thank you Captain."

"My pleasure si-" Franco's reply was cut off by the sound of an autocannon firing in the distance. Franco put his helmet back on. "Just our luck."

**XXXXX**

Ironwood methodically loaded cartridges into his revolver before clacking the cylinder closed. He wasn't taking any chances with this unknown force, sitting around the crew compartment of his Bullhead was the Atlesian Ace-Ops the best Huntsmen in Atlas. Flying not too far off were several more Bullheads loaded to the brim with soldiers and Knights. He was hoping they were enough to meet the threat, reports he had gotten from back from the command center was that the unknown unit had plenty of heavy vehicles with capabilities that were not yet known. What was disconcerting was that the origin of this unit was still a mystery. There were no White Fang cells large enough to field such a force, bandits were out of the question from what he had seen from aerial recon showed they were far too organized. That left the other kingdoms but that too was highly unlikely, no declaration of war had been made and the world was still in a relatively peaceful age. So who then? The General continued to rack his brain for ideas when Winter's voice brought him back to reality.

"Sir we're approaching the drop zone."

Ironwood pushed himself out of his seat and walked into the cockpit, heavy cloud cover broke the landscape below. Every once in awhile the clouds gave way and revealed the tundra below. Their destination, the rolling foothills that gave way to the Ankar mountain range. Much of the land was uninhabited but a few patches of land were owned by the SDC and as a result countless mines both active and abandoned littered Atlas.

"Got something." One of the pilots said getting Ironwood's attention. "Two O'clock, looks like DeathStalkers."

"I see them." Ironwood said, looking at the sizable pack of the scorpion-like Grimm.

"I count at least twenty," Winter paused. "You usually don't see a pack that size, I wonder what they're after?"

"Clover get your team ready to fight." Ironwood announced as he watched the Grimm below.

The Ace-Ops team leader stood up and grinned. "Time to earn your living kids," Clover walked into the cockpit. "Things might get a little interesting down there Sir, I suggest we drop part of the strike force in the hills to provide cover."

"I agree,"

"Gunfire! Looks like someone is already fighting the Grimm." Winter said cutting off the General.

Ironwood pivoted on his heels and looked out the windshield. Through the clouds, he could make out the muzzle flashes of cannons firing. That's when he saw them, armored vehicles like he'd never seen before. A tan tracked vehicle with an angled hull that gave way to a small turret with a long skinny autocannon. He watched as one of these vehicles pulled up to a berm and raised a box on the side of its turret. Seconds later there was a bright flash as a missile erupted from the box and soared towards the oncoming Deathstalkers. The missile impacted the armored carapace of the Grimm sending an accelerated cone of copper into the creature effectively killing it. The turret of the vehicle traversed acquired another target and fired again quickly dispatching another Grimm. As the battle unfolded the Atlesians watched as one by one the vehicles began to fall back covering each other as they moved from terrain feature to terrain feature.

"Who the hell are these people?" Winter muttered.

Ironwood shook his head. "I don't know, pilot, put us down on the other side of that hill."

"Yes Sir."

The co-pilot looked over his shoulder at Ironwood. "Sir we're picking up a lot of radio traffic."

"Can you patch me in?"

"Uh yes Sir, however it's encrypted so you can't get much out of it."

Ironwood grabbed a headset from the pilot and slipped it over his head, as the co-pilot had said the transmission cut in and out but he still might be able to pull something out of it.

"_Battle Six this is… at risk of being... back to support by fire...copy over."_

"_Apache Red One, Battle… link in with… Out."_

Ironwood looked over at Winter and Clover. "Sounds like they have another contingent on the hill."

"Any change to the plan sir?" Clover asked.

"No we're still going in."

**XXXXX**

"Klein crank her on!" Shaw yelled as he pushed past the breach putting out his cigarette on the aft-cap deflector on his way in. He switched on the laser range finder and took his thermal sights out of stand-by. Shaw slid his CVC on his head just as _Boogaloo's_ AGT-1500 engine came to life with a ghost-like wail. Rossa dropped down through the hatch and into the TC station just as Yanovich dropped into his station. Once the engine turned over Rossa ordered Klein out of the hide site in the trees and towards the battle position that had been dug earlier that day. The battle position or BP was nothing more than a hole in the ground wide enough and deep enough to keep an Abrams tank in a turret down position. The front of the pit slopped up just enough for a tank to move to a hull-down position and engage targets. When the tank pulled into the battle position Shaw began to scan for targets. He flipped the J-box to company net and listened in, it was a strange situation to say the least.

First, the scouts that had been attached to Team Bravo had called up a contact report and were engaging, the plan was for the scouts and their four Bradley's to engage the enemy and slow them long enough for the rest of Team Bravo to occupy their positions. After that, they were to displace and let the enemy pass over them while they were in a hide so they could harass the enemy rear. However something had gone wrong, the scouts as planned displaced but instead of falling back to pre-planed hide positions the scouts were falling back to Team Bravo's primary battle positions. Then came a more detailed report of the enemy, the scouts called up that the advancing force consisted of giant black scorpions. At first Shaw didn't know what to think, sure soldiers made jokes in the middle of combat but with the current situation being what it was he wasn't going to laugh it off.

"_One Golf Four Golf, got a brad, vicinity of *TRP Two." _

Shaw traversed over his left fender to where Maddoc indicated, speeding down the road was one of the scout Bradley's. A few seconds later the other Bradleys began to appear behind it each trying to keep pace with the one in front.

"Four Golf One Golf, I got 'em." Shaw replied before keying out.

"_What do you think's got them so spooked?"_ The question game from the gunner of 32 Specialist Ryan Harrison.

"_Don't you know man giant bugs, man you're stupid." _

"_Shut up Three Golf." _Harrison replied.

The gunner of Bravo 33, Specialist Alvaro Rosales, chuckled. "_Hey you heard the contact report just like me. It's probably just tanks."_

"_Three Golf Four Golf, chill you'll scare the Jew."_

Shaw chuckled alongside his crew before he keyed the comms. "Oy Vey defending the Golan Heights are we?"

"_Blue One Golf, Battle Nine. You're on company."_

"Son of a bitch!" Shaw scrambled to flip the work switch to the platoon net as he heard his tank along with the platoon net erupted with laughter. He keyed the push to talk switch one more time. "I hate all of you."

Embarrassed Shaw pushed his face to the *GPS and continued to scan his sector. Once the scouts had reached their lines Captain Dittrich came over the net and gave them the go-ahead to go Red Tight. Shaw glanced down at his control panel and made sure everything was in order. MPAT index, laser on, thermals working, coax loaded, when the shooting started Lieutenant Rossa would be too busy calling up *BDAs and maneuvering the platoon to give Shaw fire commands. For the majority of the fight, Shaw would be on his own forced to find all his targets and issue his own fire commands until the LT called ceasefire. It was a scenario that any gunner on a command tank would have to face in the coming fight.

"_Contact south out!" _The report came from the TC of the 33 tank Sergeant Connor McKenzie. The contact report was followed by the report of a 120mm cannon. The commotion startled Shaw out of his daze and he pushed his face back to the sight. He switched it to X10 power and brought it on target, a giant black scorpion with spots of white bone covering most of its body. He knew he didn't have time to question what he was shooting at, all he knew was he needed to fire.

"Identified Scorpion, 1500 meters!"

"Gunner, MPAT, Scorpion."

Yanovich jerked up on the arming handle. "Up!"

Rossa had his face pushed into the GPSE watching his gunner keep the Grimm in his crosshairs. "Fire and adjust!"

Shaw lazed one last time before squeezing the trigger. "On the way!" The gun roared to life and kicked back spitting a spent aft-cap into the guards. A hundred and twenty millimeter high explosive round burst from the barrel of the cannon leaving a trail burning gas and propellant in its wake. The bright orange glow of the MPAT tracer could be seen arcing across the open fields of the tundra, and a pressure wave caused snow to swirl creating ghostly figures. The glow of the tracer only disappeared when the MPAT connected with its target. The M830A1 MPAT, or Multi-Purpose Anti-Tank was a multi-use round that replaced the HEAT round in the U.S Army's arsenal. Featuring a thirty-pound warhead and variable fuse, the round was lethal, able to engage both light armor and helicopters. The explosive warhead impacted the Deathstalker sending a shock wave through the Grimm followed by a hyper accelerated cone of copper. The resulting spall tore the beast apart only leaving the husk of the Deathstalker. "Target, load MPAT!"

Time moved in slow motion for Yanovich as he slammed another MPAT round into the breach. Just before he armed the gun he looked across the turret at his friend, the green glow of the thermal sight illuminated Shaw's face. Shaw had his face pressed to the sight grinning, even when the steel breech block recoiled only inches from his head, it wasn't an uncommon occurrence. Yanovich had asked him what gunning was like and why he always smiled to which Shaw just shrugged and said. "_Can't help it Boss, it's an addiction. Gunning is all just chaos, you push through it all up til the moment you pull the trigger and in that moment you're watching the tracer fly and put steel on target. Clarity, I live for that moment Yano.." _

"Up!" Yanovich armed the gun once more feeding his friend's addiction.

"Scorpion, 1300 meters." There was a slight pause as Shaw got his final laze. "On the way!" The round smashed into the Deathstalker killing it in an instant. "Target!"

"Cease fire! Designate." Rossa hit the designate button on the TC control handle and slaved the gun onto another Deathstalker that hadn't yet been engaged in his sector.

"Identified 1400 meters!"

"Fire and adjust!"

"On the way!"

The breech kicked back once more throwing another aft-cap onto the turret floor. Shaw began tracking another target when it strayed into 32's sector. "Shit," Shaw pressed down the gunner's push to talk switch with his foot. "Two Golf, one of those fuckers just crossed TRP two."

"_Roger I got him." _

Shaw heard the tank next to him fire as it dispatched another Deathstalker. Shaw continued to scan his sector, the proficiency of the company's tanks crews along with effective target handoff allowed the company to efficiently thin the hoard of Grimm without double tapping targets. The cannon fire died down as the last of the Deathstalkers were killed. During the action, Rossa had been keeping count of the battle damage and round count from the platoon on CDU.

"Battle Six Blue One, Blue Platoon engaged and destroyed ten Scorpions break, expended ten MPAT over." Ross leaned back in his seat as Captain Dittrich gave a short reply.

"_Blue one Battle Six roger, have one of your tanks stay in the BP pull the rest back to the hide over."_

"Blue One roger," Rossa flipped the JBOX to the platoon net. "Three One, you got that?"

McKenzie flashed a thumbs up from his tank. "_And roger, fuck me I guess."_

"Welcome to being the Three." Rossa keyed out. "Klein back us up, going back to the hide."

Rossa heard the gear shift as Klein backed out of the BP and drove the tank back to the hide site. Once they got there he told his driver to give it two before climbing out of the TC hatch and opened up his sponson. He was planning to grab one of the Cokes he had stashed in there earlier but instead all he saw were cases of energy drinks, cartons of cigarettes, logs of dip and a variety of different snacks.

"Shaw?"

The gunner leaned back in his seat and looked out of the TC hatch.

"Sir?"

"Why is my sponson full of bullshit?"

"Hold on a second Sir we just got done fighting an army of monsters and you're concerned with where Yano and I stored the snacks?"

"Yeah, it's my sponson." Rossa replied opening one of the cases of NOS and pulling out a can.

"Look Sir, we had no room in the normal places we store snacks. Ammo rack is full of you know ammo, jukebox is full of POL, we can only put so much in the loaders sponson."

Rossa cracked open the can and took a drink. "Fine but I'm taking some as rent."

**XXXXX**

It was impressive to say the least watching the battle unfold from above. Even armed with the best Mechanized Battlesuits the Kingdom could produce the Atlesian army would still have a problem dealing with a pack that sized. That wasn't the only thing, the armored vehicles the way they moved and fought. It was obvious that wherever they came from their sole purpose wasn't fighting Grimm, no these people trained to fight an opponent just as strong as them, someone with similar equipment. Their sole purpose was to fight a human enemy and do so with the least amount of looses their own. Ironwood stood there silently contemplating his next move, he could easily order an airstrike on these soldiers and be done with it all. It was painfully obvious that any Atlesian ground force he sent to challenge these strangers would result in countless Atlesian casualties. However there was another option he could take, the soldiers on the ground below him held the key to what he was looking for.

"Sir, one o'clock looks like an encampment."

"Put her down Pilot," Ironwood walked back into the crew compartment. "Winter, Clover you're with me. Once we're on the ground have the other members of your team stand by outside the bullhead."

"Sir are you sure this is a good idea, we don't know what we're up against." Winter said falling in behind the General.

"Winter, you remember what I said about Atlas not having fought a modern conflict in years."

"Sir?"

Ironwood turned around and faced Winter just as the transport touched down. "There is nothing we can do about that, however we can prepare for the future. We may have the most advanced military in Remnant but we need to learn how to fight. This is the first step."

The ramp to the bullhead dropped and a cold wind blew into the crew compartment as the General made his way down the ramp.

* * *

**Index**

**JSLIST: Joint Service Lightweight Integrated Suit Technology, sounds cooler than what it really is. A cumbersome, bulky uncomfortable suit lined with charcoal to protect the human body from chemical weapons.**

**MOPP Level: Mission Oriented Protective Posture, system used to determine how much of the JSLIST you're going to use. Ranges from MOPP Read (Mask carried on hip) to MOPP FIVE (FULL SUIT)**

**TC: Tank Commander, Track Commander, Truck Commander**

**S-2: Military intelligence on a Battalion/Brigade Level**

**S-3: Operations on a Battalion/Brigade Level**

**CVC: Combat Vehicle Crewman, used to describe different Fire Resistant uniform item worn by Vehicle Operators.**

**FREE: Fire Resistant Environmental Ensemble, replaced the older CVC gear**

**LMTV: Light Medium Tactical Vehicle, pretty much just a cargo truck.**

**JCR: Joint Capabilities Release, system used for battle tracking**

**DAGR: Defense Advance GPS Receiver **

**TOC: Tactical Operations Center**

**BC: Term we use for Battalion Commander**

**ACH: Advanced Combat Helmet**

**TRP: Target Reference Point**

**BDA: Battle Damage Assessment**

* * *

**Authors Note: That's it for chapter one, there's not really gonna be an update schedule. I'll write when I can and hopefully what ever I turn out you all will enjoy. **


	2. Chapter Two: Earn Your Keep

**Authors Note: Well I turned this out faster than expected, again I've got nothing but time on my hands. Though I may not be turning out chapters as frequently in the coming months. My platoon got selected for Strong Europe Tank Challenge and our Battalion S-3 and Company commander have been pretty adamant that we spend a fuck ton of time in the simulator and maintaining the tanks. Either way I hope y'all enjoy this chapter.**

**Beta-Read by SilverExcel115**

* * *

**Chapter Two: Earn Your Keep**

"_**The fundamental mission of the tank platoon is to close with **__**and destroy the enemy. The platoon's ability to move, shoot, **__**and communicate and do so with the armored protection **__**provided by the Abrams tank is a decisive factor on the **__**modern battlefield. The tank platoon is capable of **__**conducting offensive, defensive, and stability operations in **__**support of decisive action operations."**_

**TC 3-20.98 Tank Platoon**

* * *

Colonel Bradshaw heard the VTOL craft before he saw it, immediately he grabbed his rifle and donned his patrol cap. On his way out of the 577, he caught the Battalion Command Sergeant Major, Jasper Hess, and told him to pack up the TOC and displace. Bradshaw jogged through the snow towards the VTOL M4 in hand. He passed the S-3s Bradley and knelt next to the Major.

"What do we got Allan?"

Major Allan Jordan glanced over his shoulder then back over at the VTOL still clutching an M4 in his hands. "Son bitch landed few minutes ago, then the circus rolled out." Jordan motioned to the group that had descended out the ramp.

Bradshaw had to agree with the S-3, it was definitely

a strange group, several soldiers wore a carapace like armor on their upper torso with a helmet that encased most of their head and face, each carried a rifle that Bradshaw thought looked too bulky and cumbersome to be of any practical use. It only got stranger from there, one man wore a short sleeve white and blue shirt with a red sash. The woman next to him was more practically dressed in a white uniform with a heavy winter coat, a sword hung from her hip which the colonel thought strange. Finally was the man at the front of the group, he wore a heavy white trench coat and an officer peak cap two revolvers hung from opposite hips.

"They say anything?"

Major Jordan bit his lip. "They're asking for you, Sir."

Bradshaw tensed strengthening the grip on his rifle. "Right, I hope the S-shops know how to fight. If things go south we can't rely on a line company to get here in time."

The colonel stood and walked into the open carrying his rifle at the low ready, he could feel the unease in the air hanging there like a dense fog. He hoped that the soldiers in the battalion staff held their nerve and didn't open fire, the battalion's NCO maintained good discipline in the unit but all it took was jumpy private with a rifle to turn the encounter into a violent one.

He stopped a few feet in front of VTOL craft and took a breath. "I'm Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Bradshaw, First Battalion Eighth Cavalry Regiment."

One of the men stepped forward and folded his hands behind his back, he studied Bradshaw for a moment before extending a hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you Colonel, General James Ironwood head of the Atlesian military."

Bradshaw hesitated before shaking Ironwood's hand. "Can't say I've heard of your organization."

Ironwood's face betrayed no emotion however he was surprised, even in the most remote village people knew about Atlas. It was then his eyes fell on the patch on Bradshaw's left shoulder, a Norman shield with the silhouette of a horse's head and a broad diagonal band bisecting the patch. On his right shoulder a red, white, and blue flag with many stars.

"Neither have I," Ironwood replied suspicion edging on his voice. "What exactly are you doing out in the tundra?"

"I wish I could give you an answer but," Bradshaw cast a glance over his shoulder at his men behind him. "I haven't a clue where we are right now."

"How do you not know where you are, how does a battalion-sized formation end up in the middle of Atlas but not know where they are."

Bradshaw slung his rifle over his shoulder. "Atlas, Sir up until eight hours ago I was in Germany conducting a movement to contact into Poland. Next thing I know I'm getting shelled and end up here with one of my companies engaged with giant scorpions and with barley enough supplies keep my task force alive for a week. So forgive me if finding out where I am wasn't on the top of my priority list." Bradshaw bit his tongue, he didn't mean to snap at Ironwood however the stress of the past few hours was finally catching up to him at worst of times.

Ironwood looked him in the eyes and couldn't help but be sympathetic. Bradshaw had the tired eyes of an officer doing his best to keep his formation together, to keep them alive, even if there was little hope doing so. He knew he had been there years ago. He wanted to help Bradshaw, however, there were things he had to know first.

"Colonel, a formation this size just doesn't appear out of nowhere, operating unorthodox vehicles and using firearms of foreign design. Tell me which one of the kingdoms do you come from? Tell me and maybe then we can find a way to save your men."

Bradshaw raised a brow. "Kingdoms? We aren't from any kingdom, most of the men here are from the United States, some from Poland, some from Bulgaria, got a couple from the Netherlands. Where on earth are we?"

"I had a suspicion," Ironwood muttered, a few years ago he wouldn't even consider such a ridiculous thing. But after everything Ozpin had told him he wasn't one to exclude every option. "Colonel Bradshaw I fear you are no longer on... Earth. I will tell you everything you need to know, I will get your men out of the tundra. But on one condition. The world is changing and along with it the enemy we fight and I fear my kingdom isn't ready for the wars of the future." Ironwood walked past Bradshaw and stood before a tank with the bumper number HQ-60. "But you and your men, you know how to fight a thinking, human enemy. You don't charge into the fire you control the battlefield, mold the situation into something desirable then strike. And that is something this kingdom desperately needs. I'm asking you, so that in the next war I don't have to send men needlessly into the fray, teach us how to fight."

It was ridiculous this talk of other worlds, but if pulling his men away from the brink of death meant working with Ironwood he would be willing to teach the Atlesian army a thing or two.

Bradshaw faced the General and extended a hand. "Throughout its history, the Eighth Cavalry had seen its formation shattered and reformed and each time it has come back stronger. I won't watch it be erased from history General."

Ironwood gave a small satisfied smile before grabbing Bradshaw's hand. "It's a pleasure to be working with you, Lieutenant Colonel."

**XXXXX**

**Camp Azure**

"We abandoned the installation after the Great War, back then Camp Azure was one of several forts that protected Mantle against Grimm attacks and potential enemy invasion." Ironwood pushed open the heavy wooden doors of Camp Azure's command center. He walked inside followed by Bradshaw, Hess and several members of Charlie Company, each man carried an M4 at the low ready. On their way out of the tundra Colonel Bradshaw had elected to fly with the General in his Bullhead back to the outskirts of Mantle. During the flight over Ironwood and Winter had given him a brief version of Remnant's history, something he was still having trouble coming to terms with.

"After the Atlas military and her huntsmen returned from the war there was no longer a need for a static defense network around the former capital. Nowadays Camp Azure stands as a reminder of what happened almost a century ago." Ironwood pushed open another set of doors, this time into a room with a large terrain model of the continent sitting on a table in the center of the room. "It isn't much but I hope you all understand I couldn't march you all into Atlas without causing a panic."

Bradshaw placed his hand against the edge of the table and leaned over the terrain model. "Panic leads to negative emotions, negative emotions lead to Grimm."

Ironwood nodded. "Exactly, I'll let you and your men rest for now. Tomorrow morning I'll call an emergency council session to inform them of our agreement."

"Thank you, Sir." Hess said leaning against one of the walls, he waited for the Atlesian soldiers to leave before speaking. "You think we can trust him?"

Bradshaw stepped away from the terrain model and over to a window, down below he could see his men putting the tanks on line in the motor pool and shutting them off. It had been almost sixteen hours since they first arrived in Remnant and night had fallen over the task force, and with it more snow.

"Strangely yes, dammit Jasper what are we supposed to tell the men?" Bradshaw said slamming his fist against the window sill.

Hess motioned for his men to step outside while he talked with his battalion commander. "Tell them the same thing you told me when you stepped off that plane, Remnant, Atlas, Grimm, Huntsmen all of it. And don't hold anything back, these are some tough sons of bitches in our formation, they can take it."

Bradshaw scoffed. "Yeah, they'll probably be more upset about living in platoon bays than being spirited away."

"You're not wrong."

"Come on," Bradshaw pushed himself away from the window. "Let's get them formed up."

Ironwood watched from one of the command center windows as the ranks of men began to form up in the old parade field. When fully formed he estimated the task force to number around 1,000 personnel.

"An interesting group aren't they."

Ironwood looked over his shoulder to see Winter approaching him.

"Have you spoken with any of them?"

"A few, a lot has already been asked of them. Are you sure we should be asking more?"

Ironwood sighed. "I'm not, I want them to train our army. I'm not asking them to fight our wars."

Winter leaned against the wall next to Ironwood. "But we all know there is that possibility."

The two Atlesian officers watched as Sergeant Major Hess called the formation to attention before saluting Bradshaw.

"You heard the reports from Vale? Shipments of weapons from Vacuo are going missing and are reappearing on the streets of Vale. The Grimm are no longer our only enemy, there is a bigger enemy now".

**XXXXX**

**One week after arrival**

Shaw flipped open the screen on his Canon T7I camera and positioned it on the desk in front of him so he sat in the center of the screen. He took a deep breath before clicking the record button on his camera.

"So this is week one sense we got stuck here in Atlas," He tapped his fingers against the desk before he continued. "Still having a hard time believing it all, we're in another world or dimension or whatever. Our lives, families, friends, all of it is just… Gone. Like it never existed. The company got real quiet most of us are just throwing ourselves into our work trying to forget where they are." Shaw sighed. "Guess these videos are my way of coping with it all."

Shaw leaned back in his seat and laced his finger behind his head. "On another note, we've had a lot of Atlesian engineers poking around our tanks, now don't get me wrong I love showing off my equipment _Boogaloo's _a good girl but the next time one of these fuckers cuts the hatch lock and leaves master power on there really will be a boogaloo." Shaw yelled the last part at some Atlesian engineers receiving some concerned glances in return. "Yeah walk away, fucking jagaloons. Anyways it hasn't been announced yet but our mission has changed. We're no longer a frontline combat unit, they want us to train the next generation of Atlesian armor crewman, problem is Atlas doesn't have an armor school let alone a tank. Solution? Develop a main battle tank, whole reason why we go engineers climbing on our tanks." Shaw rubbed a hand across his face and yawned.

"This leads to problem number two, I overheard Captain Dittrich talking with the PLs and apparently the Atlesian government isn't looking for a main battle tank or even shown the slightest interest in forming an Armor branch. General Ironwood is stepping up to bat for us but only time will tell."

Shaw ended the recording and flipped the screen back into place before picking up the camera and slinging it over his shoulder. He made his way to the door and pushed it open. He was immediately greeted by the cold of Solitas, he flipped up the collar of his jacket and began trudging through the snow towards the tank line. He was surprised how far Camp Azure had come, a mere week ago it was a run-down complex but now was starting to look like a functioning military installation. Atlesian laborers alongside the task forces Engineer company worked day and night to restore the camp. So far the camp now had several functioning barracks, a maintenance bay large enough to accommodate tanks and artillery, a dining facility, several running latrines and there was even talk of a PX opening on the camp. Shaw didn't want to say it but a sense of normality was starting to return to the task force.

He stopped short of 31 and lit up a cigarette and took a drag before slamming his fist against the fender. The driver's hatch popped open and slide to the side as Klein sat up in his seat.

"Mornin'."

Shaw flashed a peace sign. "Morning, you PMCS _Boogaloo _yet?"

Klein smiled and slid his notebook to his gunner. "Track and hull are good, I wanted to do a cold start but we're running low on fuel and engine oil."

"Yeah tell me about it, rumor has it that our new friends are close to synthesizing turboshaft alongside other POLs. Fuel might take a bit longer."

"Why's that?"

Shaw puffed on his cigarette. "Apparently the petrol business isn't exactly booming in Remnant."

"Of course, nothing can ever just come easy for us."

Shaw threw his hands up in defense. "Hey you said it, not me."

Shaw heard the clang of boots against metal as Yano jumped from the turret onto the fender and squatted on his heels.

"Turret's good, load plan is squared away. We're short POL."

Shaw looked over at his friend and rolled his eyes. "Yeah tracking." The gunner pulled out his phone and began to scroll through a list of downloaded music. "So what are y'all feeling, synthwave?"

Klein growned. "No, swear to god that's the only thing you and Yano listen to."

Yano raised a brow. "Alright smartass what do you want to listen to?"

"Hip-hop, rap, anything but synthwave."

"50 Cent?" Shaw asked looking up from his phone.

"Fucking send it." Klein replied pushing himself out of the driver's hole and onto the front slope as _Many Men _began to play.

The crew lounged around the tank smoking and joking as they watched the other crew work. Their respite was interrupted when they heard the soft cling of metal against asphalt accompanied by the soft whine of hydraulics.

"My isn't she an impressive machine." Shaw turned around to see an elderly man with balding grey hair sitting in a mechanized chair behind him. He was accompanied by a young girl in a green dress with bright orange hair, along with General Ironwood, Winter and another man wearing a white suit with white hair and mustache. "My name is Pietro Polendina, and this is my daughter Penny."

Shaw gave a polite nod. "Elijah, Specialist Elijah Shaw, these are my crew members Specialist Eugene Yanovich and Private Richard Klein."

Pietro pushed a button on the armrest of his chair and moved his chair closer to the tank. "She looks well maintained, tell me lads who is responsible for her upkeep?"

Klein slid off the front slope and patted Yanovich on the shoulder. "The crew works together to maintain the tank, but Yanovich is the real hero here."

Shaw nodded in agreement. Unlike Shaw who had jumped tanks during his three years in the army, Yanovich spent his entire career on 31. He knew the tank as if it was a part of himself to the point where Shaw believed he had developed a sort of bond with the tank. All it took was for Klein to run the tank and just by listening to the engine Yanovich could isolate a problem before it deadlined the tank.

"Well lad you've done a marvelous job keeping her alive," Pietro said smiling at Yanovich.

The loader shifted uncomfortably. "I just do what I can sir."

General Ironwood stepped forward and rested his hand on Pietro's shoulder. "Mr. Polendina is one of the brightest minds in Atlas, as you've probably figured out this isn't a normal visit. If you could I would like for you to give us a rundown on your machine's capabilities."

Shaw stood at attention as he addressed the general. "Sir the best person to speak to about that would be the company master gunner, I'm sure if you talk to Sergeant Hemhill he would be glad to give you the skinny of it."

Ironwood shook his head. "Pietro insisted on talking to you three the moment he saw you."

Shaw rubbed the back of his neck. "Well this is the-"

"Tank, Combat, Full-Tracked: 120mm Gun, M1A2 System Enhancement Package Version Two." Penny interrupted.

Shaw blinked. "Well uh looks like someone read the TMs."

"All four volumes!" Penny gleamed.

"Right, either way, the Abrams is the primary main battle tank in the United States arsenal. It's manned by a four-man crew, a tank commander, gunner, loader and driver. Her max speed is 42 miles per hour, armed with a 120mm smoothbore cannon two M240 machine guns and a single CROWS mounted caliber fifty."

Pietro nodded as he followed along. "And what are her optics like?"

"Gunner has three sights, primary that can switch between three and ten power it can also be toggled and used with thermals, a bi-ocular thermal sight that can be switched from three to fifty power and a stadia metric auxiliary sight. The laser range finder can return targets up to five klicks away and feed the range to the ballistic firing computer. The commander had his own sight which is an extension of the primary sight along with an independent thermal viewer" Shaw pointed to the CITV in front of the loaders hatch.

Ironwood looked down at the engineer. "How far can the canon engage on the Paladin."

"Well recent tests have shown it can accurately engage targets out to one kilometer."

Ironwood scratched his chin. "What type of ammunition can it fire?"

"Sabot for tanks and tank-like targets, MPAT for Light armor and PCs, Canister for massed troops." Yano replied in an instant.

"A good loader can sling a round four to five seconds so between that and a Gunner, TC team that's in sync the Abrams excel in taking enemy armor off the battlefield." Shaw said as he pulled another cigarette from its pack before offering one to the group. The only one to accept was the man in the white suit.

The man put the cigarette between his lips and lit it. "How much is the per unit cost?"

Shaw lit his own smoke and took a drag. "I think it's somewhere around six million dollars.

"That's already well below the paladin," The man puffed on the cigarette. "My name is Jacques Schnee by the way, CEO of the Schnee Dust Company. James asked me to come on this little field trip."

"Jacques's company isn't just a mining company, they also have several endeavors in the energy market and due to his participation in Project Saracen he's now in the defense industry." Ironwood said stepping forward.

"Well I hope this has been insightful," Shaw replied as he leaned against the fender. "What is Project Saracen?"

Pietro smiled. "You'll see soon enough my boy."

The conversation was interrupted when Ironwood's scroll began to buzz. He slipped his scroll out of his coat pocket and looked at it. "Damn."

"What's wrong Sir?"

Ironwood shook his head and looked over at Winter. "Hopefully nothing, the council just called an emergency defense meeting."

"Do you need me there?" Jacques asked crushing the remains of his cigarette with his boot.

"No I can deal with the council, besides I need you all here to get a start of Saracen."

**XXXXX**

Ironwood walked into the council assembly room with his hands folded behind his back. While the council only consisted of four people the assembly room was made to accommodate groups well into the hundred. The large ornate room was filled with benches made of polished oak with red cushions on them. At the forefront of the assembly room sat four desks placed in a semi-circle each spaced evenly apart. The first thing Ironwood noticed is that the room was already filled with dozens of people ranging from defense contractors, Atlesian military personnel, scientist and engineers. Most if not all were prominent heads of Project Paladin. Immediately the General regretted not bringing Jacques or Pietro along.

"Councilman Sleet, Councilwoman Camilia, Councilman Grey." Ironwood greeted his fellow council members as he took his seat. "May I ask why we called an emergency session?"

"You know very damn well why we called an assembly James." Councilman Grey, an aged man with a bald head accused. "Would you like to tell us why a group of outlanders now occupy Camp Azure? Atlesian territory!"

"Councilman Grey, I'm sure General Ironwood has a very good reason. Though it is concerning, just where did these men come from? Are they huntsmen, mercenaries, bandits?" Camila said trying to de-escalate the situation.

Again Ironwood betrayed no emotion as he began to spin a well-conceived lie. "They're from a private contractor based out of colonies on the western continent known as the Eighth Cavalry. Their focus is the efficient and mass neutralization of Grimm and insurgent forces by means of precision equipment. In a sense they are mercenaries."

Councilman Sleet clasped his hands together and leaned forward. "Well that answers one question, but why are they here?"

Now Ironwood addressed the entire assembly. "As all of you know the council recently passed Initiative 871, the rearmament and reorganization of the Atlesian military. As a part of this initiative I have contracted the Eighth to help us train the military for future conflicts."

Grey scoffed. "We do not need this rabble to train our military! Atlas has always been strong ever since the days of Mantle we've never needed outside help."

Ironwood remained stoic as the old man continued to ramble. Grey represented a part of Atlesian people who wished to see the kingdom return to its 'glory' days of Mantle. Of course, this came with everything from mandatory service in the military, segregation of Faunus and Humans and a very heavy isolationist policy.

"Councilman Grey, you served in the Fanus war just as I have. Maybe you didn't see it from the safety of your command center."

"Why you-"

"But I served under General Legune during the Fort Castle campaign. Warfare has changed, we thought drones were the answer but all that has done is left the Atlesian fighting man weak. The Eighth knows how to fight, I've seen their work first hand and their way of fighting is what this Kingdom needs."

Ironwood received a few murmurs of agreement, Ironwood began to relax a bit when an Atlesian officer stepped forward. He wore a white dress uniform with his garrison tucked under his arm and a cigar clenched between his teeth.

"Ironwood if you would please explain to the assembly the purpose behind this covert operation you've been running." The officer said as he hit a few buttons on his scroll, the large screen behind the council members turned on. In broad black letters were the words _PROJECT SARACEN_.

Ironwood clenched a fist. "Where did you get this Brigadier General Blanc?"

Blanc snickered. "Worried are you Ironwood, you should be." Blanc turned to face the assembly. "On a secure server in Atlas Academy, we've found several clandestine operations General Ironwood has been running." Blanc projected several more titles onto the screen. "Project Sabre, Project Arquebusiers, Project Spatha, each detailing plans to develop and procure new weapons of radical design. In these files, we found data and references to weapon systems used by Ironwood's new friends!"

Images of Abrams, CV90s, BMPs, Leopards, M4s, M240s and various other weapons used by the task force appeared on the screen.

Now it was Ironwood's turn to defend himself, he stood up in his seat and straightened his jacket. "As part of Initiative 871, I took it upon myself and a select few to begin research and development of new weapon systems for our military using the Eighth's equipment as a reference."

"What Ironwood neglects to tell you is he plans to divert funds from Project Paladin to due so." A man in a yellow turtleneck sweater said from his seat. Arthur Watts, the head engineer of project paladin, rose from his seat.

"A project that is five million Lein over budget and seven months behind schedule." Ironwood countered. "Project Paladin has failed to provide results conducive to its cost, I'm only taking those funds and putting them towards more affordable and effective equipment!"

Watts looked at his scroll. "And tell me Councilman Ironwood, what makes this… Abrams… more effective than the Paladin? It has half the armament, four times the crew members, runs off a fuel source that only barbarians use. It's laughable."

Grey began to cackle. "This isn't the first time you put all your chips on the wrong horse James."

The assembly began to talk among themselves and criticized the General, even Camilia and Sleet who he had always relied on gave him warry glances. Ironwood balled his fist in rage. If they wanted to slander him and make him look like a fool fine, he would play their games.

"Alright Blanc, Watts, I'll bite." Ironwood grinned. "I'll give you an up-close and personal look of what these 'barbarians' can do."

"What?" Blanc replied.

"I'll have the Eighth pick one of their best armor crews, two weeks from now they'll shoot a Battlesuit qualification range. If they fail I'll scrap Project Saracen and all subsequent projects, but if they exceed expectations then all extra funding that had gone to Project Paladin will be diverted to Saracen."

"You're insane!" Grey cried standing up and knocking his chair over in the process.

"We shall see." Ironwood replied calmly as he walked down the center aisle of the assembly room. He hoped the tank crews were as good as he thought they were, if not then he had just put the entirety of Project Saracen and the lives of the task force at risk.

**XXXXX**

Captain Dittrich walked behind Bradshaw and Ironwood, several days ago Bradshaw had walked into his command post and asked him to provide a tank crew for a demonstration for the Atlesian council. At first Dittrich thought it would be a simple static display, let a few official crawl around the Abrams for a half an hour or so and send them on their way. However when General Ironwood walked in with a grim expression on his face Dittrich knew it was something more. They wanted one of his tanks to shoot an Atlesian mech gunnery. Dittrich began to rack his brain for options, the obvious choice was Sergeant Farero and Maddoc. The crew of Bravo 34, affectionately known as _Beats Walking_, had shot top tank in the battalion a few months ago during crew gunnery. However, both the Platoon Sergeant and the gunner had only shot eight of ten qualifying engagements and Dittrich had wanted to give them more time in the simulators to work out the kinks. The second option was Lieutenant Rossa and Shaw, they came in at a close second to the 34 crew shooting a nine of ten qualifying engagements and were a little faster at acquiring targets. The problem was during the night run of table six Shaw had terrible luck with his machine gun malfunctioning. The coax had trouble feeding which required the crew to pull it from its mount effectively nulling out zero that Shaw boasted about. In the end, the malfunction had cost them valuable time and points knocking their almost perfect score down to a 910 distinguished.

The gunner had been quick to own up to his oversight of not properly maintaining the weapon and swore to both his TC and him that it would never happen again. Now Dittrich decided to see if Shaw had made good on his promise and sent the names of his crew up to the battalion commander. A few hours later he had been collected by Bradshaw and Ironwood to go break the news to the 31 crew. Bradshaw opened the door to the Bravo company day room where most of the men spent their downtime. The day room was a simple annex that had been built off the side of the barracks. Inside there were a few tables where soldiers played cards, a pool table that they had found and refurbished somewhere on Camp Azure, they even had a TV and several sofas that had somehow acquired. The whole idea of the day room had been spearheaded by a couple of gunners in the company and Dittrich was quick to sign off on the proposal. It was something besides work to keep their minds off the present situation, something that would bring a sense of normality back to the company. The moment he and Bradshaw stepped one of his men snapped up from his seat.

"Room attention!"

There was the sound of chairs sliding against the tile and pool cues dropping as every man present snapped to the position of attention.

"At ease." Bradshaw said watching as the men began to relax. "I need to see Lieutenant Rossa and Specialist Shaw."

Shaw and Rossa who had been playing pool against Yanovich and Maddoc made their way across the day room and stood before the senior officers.

"You're not gonna like this Damian." Dittrich said receiving concerned glances from Rossa and Shaw.

Bradshaw cleared his throat. "The Atlesian government is doubting the capabilities of our equipment, right now they're under the impression that developing a new main battle tank for the Atlesian army along with support equipment for existing vehicles will draw too many funds from current projects. In short, we want your crew to set them straight."

"What I proposed is that one of the tank crew shoots a Battlesuit qualification range," Ironwood started. "Show them that the Abrams can not only meet the requirements of the Atlesian army but exceed all expectations of the Project Paladin. I'm sorry to put this all on you but it's the best chance we have."

And if we fail?" Rossa said asking the obvious question.

"I've already secured amnesty for the Task Force, worst case is the task force is divested and all equipment confiscated. The best case is that the unit stays together and serves under my direct supervision with limited support and logistics from the Army."

"Sounds like a high stakes game." Shaw chimed in.

"How long do we got to prepare?"

"You have a week to prepare for the live fire," Ironwood stated he pulled out a scroll and handed it to Rossa. "This scroll contains several documents and videos of previous gunnerys, there are even a few from the paladin live-fire test. I believe that it should be instrumental in helping you get ready."

The lieutenant look at the scroll and fumbled with it trying to figure out how to operate it, it took a minute but he finally extended the scroll and was able to sync it with the television and began playing a video that had been title _"Project Paladin Live Fire Test #05". _ The video attracted the attention of the men in the room and soon everyone present stood around the tv as the video began to play.

The screen flashed to life and a tower view of the range appeared on the screen. At the forefront of the camera below the tower, a massive mechanized suit stood waiting for targets as audio began to play.

"_Captain Frost are you ready?"_

"_Yes Sir."_ The pilot of the paladin replied.

"_Alright, presenting targets."_

Downrange several mechs of similar size stood up and began moving towards the paladin.

"Those are Atlesian Templar-250s, they're currently in service but they're supposed to be replaced by the Paladin. These ones are just unmanned training drones."

"_Targets spotted, engaging." _The Paladin began to move forward its torso pivoted pointing towards the nearest Templar. The Paladin lowered a canon on its shoulder and began to fire in rapid succession. One of the rounds landed short while another went wide, the last round hit the Templar square in the torso and destroyed it.

"Not very accurate." Maddoc said.

"The Paladin was meant to fight the Grimm and infantry. Its weapons aren't meant for precession as they are for suppression."

The Paladin stopped and pivoted, this time it raised an arm-mounted chain gun and fired. They continued to watch the video until its conclusion, Rossa stood up from his seat and faced Ironwood.

"I think I've seen what I need to Sir."

Ironwood raised a brow. "You sound confident Lieutenant. What makes you so sure?"

"Shaw." Rossa said getting his gunner in on the conversation.

Shaw leaned back in his seat holding a pen between his teeth.

"The engagement ranges are a joke, at most maybe a klick. Some of the targets pop up so close I might as well just shoot with the gas sight. It's an open maneuver range, we can park the tank behind a berm and shoot there all damn day but I guess that wouldn't make a good show. Honestly, if you really want to show them what we can do have them push the targetry further out, five hundred meters to two klicks should do the trick Sir."

"You want to make it harder?" Ironwood questioned. "You understand that if you score just a point lower than the Paladin we're done, everything we've done here will be for nothing."

"With due respect General Ironwood," Dittrich said stepping in. "Where we come from the purpose of a gunnery is to test a crew's ability to shoot, move and communicate. Not just to see how effective they are at fighting, and that ability, that coordination combined with the armored protection of the Abrams, that's the decisive factor we aim for on the battlefield. We've always been the combat arm of decision."

**XXXXX**

**A week later**

Shaw had to admit it was a nice day, clear blue sky a soft breeze, the only problem was that the temperature still lingered in the low thirties. However, bundled up in his CVC uniform it was still comfortable enough to nap. It was mid-day and the range wasn't scheduled to go hot for another forty minutes or so. They had arrived at the qualification range yesterday afternoon and after a quick after operations PMCS they bedded down inside the heated range control tower. That morning they had gotten up at around zero four and made the quick four-mile drive down to the fuel point where they a HEMTT fueler waited. They topped off 31s fuel cells before they began ammo upload, a specific number of targets hadn't been given so Colonel Bradshaw allowed them to draw a combat load, thirty-six main gun rounds, five hundred rounds of caliber fifty, and several thousand rounds of 7.62. After that, they drove back to the qualification range where the checked engine and transmission oil along with tightening the track. Now all they could do was wait.

Shaw was about to doze off when he heard the sound of boots hitting the asphalt. He pushed himself into an upright position on the front slope. Leaning against the front slope was the Battalion S-3. Major Jordan had made it a habit to visit tank crews before they shot their table six and talk to them. He too had been an armor crewman before and thought it would put the younger soldiers at ease if the old man had offered them a few words.

Major Jordan smiled warmly as he greeted the crew. "How are you boys doing?"

"Alright so far Sir." Yanovich replied with a bit of a nervous edge in his voice. Yano sat down on the edge of the turret. "Not a fan of having the future of the battalion riding on my shoulders."

"You kids will be alright, just think of it as another gunnery." Jordan leaned against the front slope. "You remember that feeling y'all got during your first gunnery?"

Shaw nodded. "Yeah felt like my stomach was about to turn inside out."

"Yep, and the moment you got out there and the main gun went off it all went away. It's all the same shit." The Major reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pack of lucky strikes. "Didn't use to smoke as much as I do now, know what got me to chain smoke."

"Being in Remnant?" Klein remarked.

"Nope, the fucking BC." The crew chuckled before the major continued. "You'll do good out there kids, don't let these Atlesian fucks show us up. Roger?"

Shaw grinned. "Roger Sir."

The crew saluted Jordan before he walked off towards the range control tower. A crowd now began to grow around the tower. Shaw stared aimlessly off into the distance before pulling out his own pack and began to smoke. The gunner had started to zone out again when he heard an unknown voice begin to speak.

"So this is the machine huh, doesn't look like much."

Shaw looked at an Atlesian officer accompanied by several men. "Excuse me?"

"Does Ironwood really expect this garbage to beat my Paladin?"

Shaw didn't get a chance to get angry, Yano was already several steps ahead of him.

"Hey motherfucker! Don't just walk up to my girl and start talking shit you hear!"

Yano jumped from the turret down to the ground below, his sleeves were rolled up and his hands were covered in grease along with the adjustable wrench he carried. The loader stormed over to the man clutching the wrench as if he were about to beat the man bloody. Shaw grabbed his friend by the shoulder before he could do anything rash.

The Atlesian officer glared at Yanovich. "Watch your tone boy, do you know who you're talking to?"

"A cocky son of a bitch who's about to get his skull caved in!"

"Yanovich! Chill brother."

"You barbarians have no purpose here, this whole spectacle is a waste of time and money. What purpose is there to a weapon system that can't handle more than a single target at a time. Ironwood claims that warfare is changing but what proof is there of it, we're in an unprecedented era of peace! Our focus should be the extermination of Grimm, not our fellow man! Your presence here does nothing but invite the war Ironwood is looking for."

Shaw removed his hand from Yano's shoulder and looked the Atlesian officer in the eye. "They say war comes not when we are strong but when we are weak that tyrants are tempted. I never cared too much for the politics of it all. My mission remains the same, to close with and destroy the enemy. And if you think for a moment that my tank can't hold a candle to your Paladin then Sir, I'm afraid you're sadly mistaken."

The officer clenched his fist and was about to reply before he was promptly interrupted by Ironwood. The General stopped short of the group with Rossa, Bradshaw, and Jacques on his heels.

"General Blanc! What is going on here?"

"You should teach your dogs some respect Ironwood, these children know nothing of respect!"

Ironwood looked at Shaw then back at Blanc. "On the contrary General, these are some of the finest soldiers I know. And I can't fault a man for defending his equipment, especially if his life depends on that very thing. Now if you wouldn't mind joining us in the tower, the range is about to go hot."

Blanc growled before snapping at Shaw. "This isn't over!"

Shaw watched as Ironwood led Blanc and his own commander off to the tower leaving only the tank crew and Jacques behind. Jacques shook his head in disappointment before facing the crew.

"And to think I invested so much into that man's project."

"Invested?" Rossa asked. "You're a part of Project Paladin?"

"Was, the project had promise at first however development cost began to rise and the project fell behind schedule. And let's just say Blanc and I had some… Ideological differences. I pulled my support when I saw where the project was going." Jacques paused and looked at the crew. "Now don't get me wrong I'm as much a patriot as any other Atlesian, but there is no point in investing in a doomed project. Besides I'm banking on you now."

"Well we're glad to have the support Mr. Schnee." Rossa replied.

Jacques nodded in his appreciation before reaching in his suit pocket. "And before I forget, Ironwood wanted you all to wear these today." Jacques handed each crewmember a velcro patch bearing the Atlesian flag. "I know nothing can ever replace your loyalty and love of your home country. But I hope someday you all will see Atlas as your home, and fight for her as you once fought for the United States. Good luck out there men."

Jacques returned to the tower and found his seat next to his daughter and General Ironwood. Down below the crew of 31 had mounted their tank and cranked on the engine. Over the tower intercom, he could hear the crew inside their vehicle as Rossa began to speak.

"_Crew report."_

"_Driver ready, tank in drive."_

"_Loader ready, Sabot loaded."_

"_Gunner ready, Sabot indexed." _

"_Charlie Niner Two, shit, I mean Tower this is Blue one we're Redcon One."_

The range officer leaned forward and spoke into the mic. "Roger Blue One, presenting targets."

A technician hit several keys on his keyboard, on one of the screens Jacques saw two Templars and a squad of Atlesian Knights deploy and begin to advance.

"_Gunner pick up a scan."_

"_Identified tank, 1500 hundred meters!"_

"_Gunner, Sabot, Tank!"_

The game had begun.


	3. Chapter Three: Future of Warfare

**Authors Note: Sorry for the delayed update, things got hectic real fast. I'll try to be faster with the next one but there is no guarantee given my schedule. Either way hope you enjoy this new chapter. **

* * *

**The Future of Warfare**

"**Soldiers are able to engage multiple targets rapidly while operating within irregular battle lines. Survival depends on the Soldier's ability to search, acquire and locate, and, engage and destroy the enemy rapidly if necessary. Soldiers are proficient in the techniques and procedures for rapidly detecting and acquiring potential targets, making engagement decisions, employing fire commands, and executing and assessing engagements against hostile targets to orchestrate the engagement process."**

**TC 3-20.31-4 Direct Fire Engagement Process**

* * *

"Fire and adjust!"

"On the way!" Shaw pulled the trigger on the cadillacs sending a 120mm Sabot downrange. The M829A3 Sabot, a kinetic energy penetrator with a depleted uranium core, had no problem slicing through the crew compartment. The Templar shuttered and ground to a halt, smoke began funneling out the mech and a few seconds later an internal detonation blew the vehicle apart. "Target!"

"Ceasefire, Designate tank!"

Yanovich flipped the round over and onto the breach and rammed it home with a closed fist before arming the gun.

"Up!"

"Identified tank, 1000 meters!" Shaw cried as he lined the crosshairs of the GPS on to the Templars unarmored midsection.

"Fire and adjust!"

"On the way!"

The canon cracked and spat an aft cap to the turret floor. Snow and debris temporarily blinded Shaw as he called up his sensing. "Lost!"

"Target, cease fire!" Rossa cheered as he watched the sabot impact the midsection cutting the Templar in two. The top half of the mech fell backwards and exploded as it hit the ground. "Driver move out, Gunner continue to scan!"

The engine whined as Klein began to drive out onto the range at thirty miles per hour.

Shaw traversed the turret left and right as he continued to look for targets. He glanced over at his bioc and saw a platoon worth of white-hot, humanoid figures moving towards the tank.

"Troops identified! Range 400 meters!"

"Gunner Can Troops!"

"Up!"

"Fire, fire Coax and suppress!"

Shaw flipped the magnification switch on his thermals back to three power bringing all the Knights into view. "One the way!"

The M1028 Canister round was vastly different from the other cartridges in the Abrams arsenal. It was developed for close-in defense of tanks against mass assaulting infantry attacks or to break up concentrations of dug-in infantry. It achieved this by discharging thousands of tungsten balls from the muzzle of the Abrams cannon. In a sense, it was nothing more than an overcharged shotgun shell. Shaw watched the steel armor of the Knights of the buckle and crack as the canister round tore them apart. He flipped the trigger switch from main to coax and began to engage any knights that remained standing. The 240 clattered to life sending rounds downrange. Shaw watched his burst hit his targets tossing the Knights to the ground like rag dolls. The acrid smoke of spent cartridges filled the gunner's nose as he called up a sensing.

"Target."

"Cease fire!" Rossa keyed his CVC with his right hand. "Tower, Blue one. Engaged and destroyed two enemy tanks and one set of troops. Continuing to engage, out."

The TC pushed himself outside of his hatch so he could better maneuver the tank. He had Klein stay in the low ground so they would be observed by the enemy. Rossa knew no one was gonna shoot back but still it was good practice. He brought the tank into a hull-down position behind a berm and waited for the next set of targets to pop. Up in the tower Ironwood observed the tank below, he had seen the Abrams fight from a prepared defensive position but when the tank was on the offense it was a whole different ball game.

"How fast was that?" Jacques asked leaning over to Ironwood.

"Less than two minutes," Ironwood replied. "Leagues faster than any of our battlesuits."

Jacques put his hand to his chin. "Can you imagine what a platoon of these beasts could do?"

"I can." Ironwood replied.

The tower control looked over at one of the technicians with an impressed look on his face. "Pop the next iteration."

Downrange several more Templars and groups of Knights deployed and began their advance. Once more over the intercom, the observers heard the well-rehearsed fire commands of the tank crew.

"_Identified tank, Range 800!"_

"_Gunner Sabot tank!"_

"_Up!"_

"_Fire and adjust!"_

"_On the way!"_

Ironwood saw the cannon go off before he heard the crack of the cannon. A bright orange glow barely visible at such a high velocity traveled downrange and impacted one of the Templars.

"_Target!"_

"_Cease Fire, designate troops!"_

The systematic killing of the mechs and androids continued as the Abrams bounded forward, stopping periodically behind berms that it used as a hasty fighting position. Every time the 120mm cannon went off the glass of the tower would shutter when the sound wave hit the building. When the iteration was over the Abrams had left three Templars, two platoons of Knights and a four-legged Warlock anti-armor drone which the crew had engaged with MPAT, burning in twisted hulks of steel and oil. This left many of the spectators impressed while a select few, like General Blanc and Watts, were annoyed.

The tower controller looked over his shoulder at Ironwood as Rossa called up his BDA. "I can't believe it this is the fastest I've ever seen anyone go through this range, I've never seen anything like it!"

Ironwood grinned. "What do you think, Blanc? I told you I'd give you an up-close and personal demonstration."

"Can it James! We still have another iteration to go, that primitive piece of rubbish has no chance of qualifying the simultaneous engagement."

Watts stood up from his seat and faced the group. "The Paladin was built on decades of fighting the Grimm in close quarters and at odds where it was outnumbered ten to one. The simultaneous engagement is meant to test a pilot's ability to take on multiple targets at once. This iteration normally makes or breaks a pilot's career. You're going to need more than one cannon to combat the Grimm."

The technician once more hit a series of keys deploying the last group of targets. Three targets appeared fanned out in front of the Abrams. Shaw saw the first target to his twelve, a Warlock drone, the four-legged drone a single energy cannon mounted on top made its advance.

"Identified PC! Range 700." Without pulling his face away from the GPS he indexed MPAT.

Rossa caught sight of the last two targets, a group of Knights off to the ten o'clock and another group to his three.

"This is it boys." Rossa muttered.

Yanovich smiled as his arm rested on the arming handle. "Death blossom?"

Rossa nodded before giving his fire command.

"Gunner MPAT PC!"

"Up!" Yano armed the gun before scrambling out of the hatch and settled in behind the loaders 240. He pulled the charging handle before Rossa gave the next part of the fire command.

"Loader 240 troop, left front 100 meters!"

Yano brought his machine gun on target and echoed the fire command. "Identified troops 100 meters!"

The last group of targets was up to Rossa, he grasped the CROWS control handle and slewed the Caliber fifty until the Knights were in his crosshairs.

"On my command!" Rossa ranged his target with the CROWS. "Driver up!"

_Boogaloo _whined as Klein twisted back on the throttle and brought the 70-ton war machine forwards cresting the berm. "FIRE AND ADJUST!"

At the same time, both Shaw and Yanovich yelled; "On the way".

In the tower, the spectators couldn't tell the difference between any of the weapons systems going off. All they saw was an eruption of fire from the tank followed by the crack of the cannon. The MPAT round smashed into the Warlock and detonated, knocking the vehicle over while a barrage of 7.62 and .50 caliber rounds cut down the Knights. Before the snow and gun debris settled it was over, in an instant the Abrams had engaged and destroyed three targets. All the spectators sat there in a dazed and shocked silence that lasted for a few minutes. The tower controller leaned forward and spoke into the mic.

"B-blue One Tower, that concludes your qualification run. Return to the baseline, out."

The Abrams max elevated its gun and put its gun over the back deck before pivoting in place and driving back down the course road.

Ironwood couldn't help but to get some sense of pleasure out of seeing Blanc standing there with his mouth agape not believing what he had just witnessed. Ironwood stepped forward and put his hand on Blanc's shoulder.

"Must be hard putting all your chips on the wrong horse, Auguste."

Blanc grimaced and jerked his shoulder out of Ironwood's grasp. "You son of a bitch, this doesn't end here James. I swear to the gods it doesn't end here." Blanc muttered before walking off.

"You've done it now James," Jacques said standing next to the General. "No one will be doubting us or Project Saracen now."

"We've still got a long way to go," Ironwood replied as he turned around. "Colonel Bradshaw, why such a long face? Your men did one hell of a job out there."

Bradshaw looked up at Ironwood, his thoughts interrupted. "Yes, the problem is that main gun rounds aren't easy to come by anymore. It'd be different if they were just slinging steel rods but, well."

"Depleted uranium isn't as easy to come by as tungsten." Pietro finished Bradshaw's thought. "Be at ease my friend, I've been talking to your battalion master gunner and we're close to finding a solution. However, for future training exercises we'll refrain from using service ammo. We've already begun to reverse engineer some of your rounds into training ammunition, something akin to what you call M865."

Bradshaw rose from his seat and made his way over to the window where he watched the Abrams make its way back to the tower.

"And what of our fuel situation, are you any closer to producing JP8?"

Now it was Jacques's turn to speak. "As you are very well aware Remnant doesn't rely on petroleum as heavily as your world, however, I was able to talk to a few of my colleagues and procure several tons of crude oil from Vacuo. The SDC research department is now trying to figure out how to refine it into JP8. I've also sent several expedition teams into the tundra to probe for oil reserves. With any luck, we should start full-scale production of refined petroleum within the year." Jacques smiled. "Who knows this might even open up a new market."

Ironwood folded his hands behind his back. "Friends I believe that the Atlesian military has a bright future ahead of it. The council will be watching us like a hawk now, while projects like Saracen will take some time to bear results. We have other smaller projects which will bring results much faster. Pietro."

The engineer looked around the now mostly empty tower, once he was sure no one else was watching he pulled out a datapad.

"The Advanced Infantry Combat Rifle, codenamed Project Arquebruisers."

* * *

**XXXXX**

* * *

Back on the pad _Boogaloo's _turbine engine began to whine down after its two minute cool down cycle. An up-armored humvee came to a stop just a few meters from the tank as the crew began to dismount the vehicle. Major Jordan pushed open the door to the humvee and took a long look at the crew of 31. Their uniforms had been covered in a light coat of dirt and oil while their faces had become covered in a layer of unburnt powder and grime. A stark difference from when they first started their run. Shaw and Yanovich had both busted out packs of cigarettes while Rossa tossed down an MRE to Klein. Despite their tired and worn appearance, they were in high spirits as they retold events from their run as if none of them had been there to witness it. Let alone take part in the live fire. Jordan smiled remembering his days as a lieutenant on a tank.

"You boys did one hell of a job out there."

Shaw jumped from the turret to the front slope and leaned against the gun tube. "How'd we do Sir?"

"Three out of three engagements qualified, the tower control said you'd cleared the run in record time."

"Hell yeah." Klein said as he opened his MRE.

Jordan shifted on his heels. "Well, I'll let you boys catch your breath, once you're done head back to the ammo pad and download ammo. We're going to HET the tank back to Camp Azure." The Major started to walk away when he stopped in his tracks and looked over his shoulder. "And by the way, word on the street is the old man is about to allow off-post privileges."

* * *

**XXXXX**

* * *

**Two Months After Arrival**

A camera comes into focus as a task force soldier, a man from the Dutch reconnaissance company, hit the play button. Inside a warehouse on camp Azure, researchers under the new Schnee Defense Works went to work testing several rifles currently under development. The Dutch soldier took a few steps back before pivoting on his heels.

"We're recording sir."

"Thank you, Corporal Stoffels." An Atlesian engineer said before continuing. "Alright, test number fifteen of the SDW CR-1 Advanced Infantry Combat Rifle. Chief Engineer Robert Cruz conducting. So far the rifle functions just like the Colt C-7, however, we've run into several problems with the dust propellant in the M900 5.56 cartridge. Issue one is that the dust propellant has a substantially lower muzzle velocity than the M855A1 cartridge. Issue two is that during cyclic and even sustained rates of fire the XM900 cartridge causes the barrel of the CR-1 to overheat and meltdown, this also inflicts significant damage to internal components such as the bolt carrier group."

Cruz took a pause and took a breath as the Dutch Soldier picked up the CR-1 and inserted the magazine and clacked the bolt forward.

"We've reduced the amount of fire dust by eighty percent allowing only enough for initial combustion, the rest has been replaced by lighting dust to act as the propellant. In theory, this should reduce wear to internal components of the rife while increasing velocity. Corporal Stoffels you may proceed, five rounds semi-automatic."

"Yes sir." Stoffels sat down behind a bench and set the CR-1 into the shooting rest. There was the audible sound of the selector switch being toggled and Stoffels exhaling as he squeezed the trigger. The rifle cracked and the hair on the back of Stoffels's neck stood up as the lighting dust discharged, sending visible bolts of static out of the muzzle. Stoffels fired off several more rounds before dropping the magazine and putting the weapon on safe.

"Muzzle velocity recorded at 630 meters per second." An engineer reported looking up from his computer station.

"Damn." Cruz cursed before continuing. "Phase two, Stoffels please fire thirty round cyclic please."

Stoffels looked over at the lead engineer. "Sir these are some pretty hot rounds we're running, we might have another meltdown."

Cruz rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, that's what we're here to find out Stoffels. Prepare to run the next iteration."

"Roger." Stoffels picked up a full magazine and slipped it into the magazine well, he palmed the bolt release before flipping to full auto and bringing his sights onto a twenty-five meter target. He exhaled and leaned into the stock, bracing for the recoil. He squeezed the trigger and the rifle clambered to life. It only took a few seconds for the barrel to get hot and begin to glow. Stoffels struggled to remove the magazine after the last casing was ejected. When he was finally able to free it from the magazine well the edges of the magazine had been deformed by the heat. Further investigation of the rifle revealed that the gas tube had been deformed along with the buffer spring and bolt, the rifling of the barrel fared no better having been worn to the point it was almost non-existent.

Engineers snapped pictures of the disassembled rifle and took notes, some cursed under their breaths. The test had come to a similar conclusion of previous experiments, dust propellant can not be fired at the high velocities expected of the Advanced Infantry Combat Rifle project. Cruz had suspected this to be the case before the experiments had started, up to this point modern dust firearms had fired a subsonic bolt of energy instead of a solid projectile. Most of the heat in these weapons were dispersed by a heat-sink that made the weapons bulky and unwieldy, something that could mean the difference between life or death on the battlefield. Because of this and his recent test with the CR-1, Cruz had come to a conclusion. If the project was to be a success then they would have to stop relying on dust and use a new propellant. Luckily for him all he would have to do is find a way to synthesize the propellant found in cartridges of the Task Force.

* * *

**XXXXX**

* * *

One of the few things Shaw truly enjoyed in the army was going to ranges. A typical range day was easy, you wake up early, throw your kit on, draw your weapons from the arms room, then drive to the range and qualify. Sometimes distro issues out too much ammunition and you have no choice to use it all. Depending on what the commander wanted to do you'd either use the ammunition to train and perfect advanced marksmanship skills or blow it on stress shoots and other competitions. However, today wasn't a normal range day. They weren't there to make sure the company was qualified on M4, they were already proficient in that department. Instead, the task for the day was to train and qualify over a hundred Atlesian cadets, recruits, and soldiers on the new CR-1. In the four and a half months after he had come to Atlas, the new Schnee Defense Works had reversed engineered Colt C-7 and the M4A1 into the Combat Rifle Model One and Combat Carbine Model One. Over three thousand units of the CR-1 and CC-1 had already been approved for production with another ten thousand on the way. Both firearms had made such a good impression on the Atlesian Parliament and Military that they greenlit the development of reversed engineered models of the Bulgarian AR-M1 and the Polish FB Beryl. All that remained now was training existing Atlesian units to use the weapons along with teaching the basics of marksmanship to the Atlesain cadets and recruits. Yet another task Shaw deemed damn near impossible.

Shaw crushed out what remained of his cigarette with the heel of his boot before addressing a group of trainees who had been sent to him for a retrain.

"Alright what seems to be the problem?" Shaw asked as he ran his hand over his face.

The trainees shifted nervously and looked at each other before one of them spoke up.

"Well I uh, I can't seem to hit the target." A cadet said embarrassed.

"Did you use the proper breathing techniques?"

The cadet nodded.

Shaw pulled another cigarette from his pack, his fifth one in the span of an hour. "Walk me through them."

"Slow deliberate breathing, inhale then exhale. Fire during the natural pause between breaths."

Shaw nodded. "Good, y'all got that?" He got a series of nods from the group. "Look firing a rifle is not hard at all," Shaw slung his own M4 off his shoulder before bringing it to the ready position. "Remember the fundamentals, sight picture, proper stance, breathing," Shaw inhaled and squeezed the trigger, there was the metallic click of the hammer striking the firing pin."Trigger squeeze. After you fire, do not take your finger off the trigger, ride it forward till you feel it reset then find your next target and engage. There is nothing to it."

Another recruit raised his hand.

"What's your question." Shaw said pointing at the recruit.

"Why don't we get optics like yours." The cadet asked motioning to the CCO on Shaw's carbine.

"You gotta walk before you can run right." Shaw started. "Yes having a CCO or an ACOG is helpful but it doesn't help if you can't even get the basics down." Another cadet scoffed at Shaw's reply causing the Specialist to glare at the green-haired trainee. "You got something to say kid?"

The Cadet, a recent graduate from Atlas academy smiled smugly as he held up his rifle. "What's the whole point of training with these, we huntsmen are already proficient with our weapons." The cadet patted what looked like a baton on his hip. "Besides what use is one of your toys when it comes up against someone manifesting aura."

Shaw crushed out the embers of his cigarette and immediately pulled another from his pack. "Swear to God you kids are gonna give me lung cancer, look the rounds fired CR-1 and the CC-1 have more than enough power behind them to drain aura in a few shots." Shaw took a drag of his cigarette, he looked around at the trainees as they shared nervous glances with each other. Some, mainly huntsmen graduates, still bore a look of conceit on their faces. Shaw sighed before he spoke again. "Here's the skinny of it, warfare is changing. Whether or not you like it or not you're gonna have to change with it. Everything you've learned in the huntsmen academy while useful has little place on the battlefield. The days of charging head-on into a fight are over, the only way you'll make it out there," Shaw paused and pointed off into the distance. "Is by mastering the Warrior task and Battle drills. These are the basic tasks and if you can't or refuse to learn them then turn in your gear and go be a freelance huntsman somewhere. You're not fit to serve in the army." Shaw took another hit of his camel. "Now if you don't got anything else to say, let's continue."

The Green haired cadet clenched his fists before reaching for his weapon. "I will not be talked down by some low life outsider, especially one of such a low rank." The cadet drew the baton from his hit and pressed a button on the side of the hilt turning it into a staff.

"What the hell is going on here!"

Shaw turned around and immediately snapped to parade rest, Staff Sergeant Christopher Hill the TC of Bravo 32 and Shaw's section sergeant approached the group.

Shaw was about to speak when the cadet interrupted him. "This soldier was disrespecting a superior officer, I ask that he be reprimanded."

Sergeant Hill raised a brow. "Huh, Shaw I didn't know you were into picking fights."

"No Sergeant, Cadet," Shaw paused and looked over at the cadet's name tape. "Cadet Roman had a grievance with how I was leading the retrain and with the new rifles. I corrected him when he drew his… Staff? Baton? Fish bat? Whatever it is. Granted I was a bit harsh."

Hill chuckled. "Always knew you were a wolf in sheep's clothes." The Staff Sergeant looked over at the Cadet. "As for you, you're hardly an officer yet let alone _my _soldiers superior. So why don't you shut the fuck up and pay attention, maybe then you'll actually fucking qualify."

The cadet put away his weapon, in his eyes, Shaw could see a bit of fear as the NCO drilled into him. He picked up his rifle and scurried away to the ammo point and was soon followed by the rest of the trainees. Shaw and Hill watched them draw ammo before turning away.

"So what do you think S'arnt?"

Hill cast a glance at Shaw. "'Bout what?"

"The cadets, re-organizing the Atlesian military, us training them."

Hill took a breath, it wasn't the first time Shaw had questioned him like this, even back in the States when the gunner was just a private new to the unit he would always turn to him. To Hill it was an indicator of when Shaw would have doubts about what they were doing or the purpose of a mission, and as a Senior Non-commissioned Officer, it was his job to mentor him.

"Atlas hasn't seen a full-scale war in years, even most of their 'veterans' haven't seen combat. That's why it's up to us to train them besides, we don't have anywhere to go."

Shaw stared at the distant mountain ranges. "But look at us, Maddoc, Harrison, me, Rosales. None of us have combat experience and yet we're expected to lead and teach these people."

Hill put his hand on Shaw's shoulder. "Just because you don't have a combat deployment under your belt doesn't make you unfit to lead. You four have done a bang-up job keeping your guys and the platoon together despite the situation we're in. Just keep on keepin' on. That's all you gotta do."

"And what about going home?"

Hill turned around and began to walk away. "Not sure that's an option, Shaw."

* * *

**XXXXX**

* * *

Colonel Bradshaw sat behind a larger round table with a hologram projector in the center. Just in front of him was a manila folder labeled "Top Secret" and a small wooden plaque with his name and just under it the word "TRADOC". The newly formed Training and Doctrine Command had been given to him along with a top-secret clearance and seat on the military council. Right now TRADOC consisted of nothing more than his task force, a few hundred support personnel, and several thousand cadets and recruits that would form the backbone of a reformed Atlesian Army. As Bradshaw began flipping through the briefing material Ironwood stood up from the head of the table and began to speak.

"Thank you all for meeting here today, I know that due to the changes being made within the military things have been rather… hectic. But that's exactly why this meeting is necessary, we all need to be on the same page if the modernization program is to proceed smoothly and without incident." Ironwood made eye contact with everyone around the table before moving on. "Now without further adieu, Colonel Bradshaw, how is the training of cadets coming along."

Bradshaw stood up from his seat. "Currently we have trained four companies of cadets and recruits and have sent them off to their units. Once they arrive at their new post's they will begin unit-level training within their regiments."

Ironwood scratched his chin. "And how effective is this method?"

"Well, the soldiers we have produced are proficient in their training so given the regimental commanders have an open mind we should expect the entire military to be operating off the same training manual."

"Very good," Bradshaw took a seat as Ironwood called on the next officer. "General Sleet."

Sleet, a man in his late fifties, was the commander of the Atlesain Quartermaster corps. "As of now, we have procured enough CR-1 and CC-1 firearms to arm the Atlesian military with thirty thousand more rifles and carbines on the way. However, procurement of shoulder-fired rockets such as the AT-4 and the RPG-22 is coming along a lot slower."

Ironwood flipped to the logistic brief in his packet. "And why is that."

"Very few factories are producing the launchers and munitions we need, we're still producing munitions for our launchers currently in service."

Ironwood scratched his head. "Right, I'll talk to the Schnee dust company to see if they can convert more factories to suit or needs, Jaques won't like it but we're all going through growing pain." The General looked up from his packet. "Colonel Rouge, what's the current status of the current projects."

Colonel Rouge, a younger officer in his thirties stood up. "Currently Project Saracen is proceeding without incident, we had to come up with a new composite for the armor sense our comrades in the Eighth won't divulge what is currently in their tanks but it's only a minor delay. The prototype for Project Cossack has just rolled off the factory floor and is currently undergoing testing at the Camp Azure proving grounds. As for Project Paladin has stalled once again, Doctor Watson and General Blanc won't tell me what the hold up is but they assured me that they'll be back on track by the end of the week." Rouge took a breath. "However I believe the delay may be due to terrorist activity in the region."

Bradshaw cocked a brow. "You talking about this White Fang group?"

Rouge shook his head. "Fanus Provisional Army."

"What's the difference?" Bradshaw asked, he was still learning all the different groups that threatened the security of Atlas.

"White Fang will burn a store and steal some dust because they think labor costs are unfair. The FPA will blow up an army barracks then try to secure a city block, and they are a lot better organized." Ironwood grumbled. "Lately intelligence reports indicate that the two groups are talking now."

"Could be a plot?"

Sleet shook his head. "I doubt it Rouge, as similar as they seem the two groups are fundamentally different."

"Either Way," Ironwood interrupted. "I don't trust Blanc to handle the situation, I'll alert Colonel Shroud. If anyone can handle the FPA it's the Black Watch."

* * *

**Before I end it I want to say thank you to SilverExcel115 for allowing me to bounce ideas off of him as well as giving my story of shout out. If you haven't read his story "A Sound of Thunder" yet you should go check it out. It's a very enjoyable read.**

**Either way thanks for reading, please leave a review it does helps me get a grasp on what I can improve and what I am doing well,**


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